


Willing to Lose

by juxtapose



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kolinahr, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtapose/pseuds/juxtapose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Spock once again contemplates undergoing kolinahr because, frankly, Jim gives him too many feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willing to Lose

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I did all right with this; there's a lot of Vulcan terminology and lore here and this is the first time I've written from Spock's perspective. Feel free to tear me apart as needed, Trekkies. Vulcan words and translations can be found in the end notes. :)  
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except my overwhelming desire to have a profound bond like Spock and Kirk's.

He had wept at Jim’s lifeless side.

Vulcans do not cry.

He had smiled at Jim’s (irrational, illogical...bright) grin in sickbay, knowing he would be all right.

Vulcans do not smile.

Lying naked in a twisted heap of sheets in his quarters with a sleeping Jim Kirk sprawled out beside him, close enough that the rhythmic beat of his very human heart could be heard by humanoid ears, Spock knows that Vulcans do not fall in love (so rapidly, so harshly). Love is not logical.

He sits up, gingerly as not to wake Jim, and reaches for his neatly-folded clothes at the edge of the bed which had somehow remained undisturbed throughout the night’s activities. He steps into his regulation trousers before crossing the room and settling down on the floor in a cross-legged position in the corner. Spock lets his eyes roll up to the ceiling before they flutter shut, attempting to place himself into a trance. Spock finds he meditates a great deal more frequently these days, for his thoughts are jagged around the edges, wanting clarity...

Somehow, his thoughts wander to Jim. The curve of the Captain’s jaw. The odd way he shakes his head from side to side when he laughs at something Spock has done that is (apparently) amusing. The flare of protective anger in his blue eyes when his ship or his crew (or Spock) is threatened. So much...feeling. Without end.

Spock opens his eyes. As he has concluded many times in the last two-point-four months, a meditative state is simply impossible for a Vulcan to achieve when he is . . . emotionally compromised.

Listening to Jim breathe, Spock tries to think. Yet, all he can conclude, is this, repeating loudly in the forefront of his consciousness: _I am no longer in control._

Interesting.

* * *

He talks to his elder, (admittedly) wiser counterpart, watching the image of what he’ll look like in many decades blare on the small screen in his quarters after his shift ends.

“Ah. You are considering the possibility of undergoing _kolinahr._ ” The Ambassador’s stoic expression reveals nothing to Spock, of course.

He replies, “Yes. Two of my cousins have completed the process. I strongly considered completing it before enrolling in Starfleet Academy, upon...my mother’s blessing.” A subject Spock very much does _not_ want to delve into further. He goes on, “However, my eventual occupation teaching at the Academy did not allow the time for it. I was told by my father as a child that it is an elaborate journey, the final steps of which consist of purging all remaining emotions into the very ground on which Vulcan was founded.” He tilts his head. “I do not imagine the process has changed since the colonization of New Vulcan.”

“It has not.” Ambassador Spock presses the tips of his fingers together. “It is important to note that not all Vulcans who have walked the path have managed to achieve _kolinahr_ successfully.”

“Have you?”

A short silence greets Spock in reply, before finally, the Ambassador says, “My journey was...interrupted, and I did not attempt again.” Before Spock has time to analyze the vague statement, the Ambassador continues: “Might I inquire what brought about this decision to release all emotion in favor of total logic? I take it you are well aware that it can take upwards of six Earth years to attain enlightenment.”

“Emotions...are distracting,” Spock retorts carefully. “Being half-human, I believe I am much more susceptible to their overtake. As a member of Starfleet and second-in-command on the _Enterprise_ , I have concluded it would be beneficial for me to operate on logic alone.”

The Ambassador nods--knowingly, Spock perceives--and leans forward slightly. “I am not at liberty to discuss with you anything that may affect your decision, Mister Spock. As I have said previously, your life in this reality is for you to do with as you so choose.”

“I am aware.”

“However, I would suggest extensive reflection before making the decision to undergo _kolinahr_.”

Spock quirks an eyebrow at this, wondering if he had misunderstood the Ambassador. “Reflection upon...?”

“Upon what you are willing to lose, Mister Spock.” An odd statement, Spock thinks, laced with emotion. Spock wonders briefly if he should address this observation openly with the Ambassador, but decides against it. Talk of emotion at this time--when he is potentially embarking on a quest to be rid of it entirely--seems contradictory.

Instead he says, simply, “I thank you for your time, Ambassador.”

The Ambassador lifts a hand in the _ta’al_. “Live long and prosper,” says he, and the communication closes, leaving Spock to stew in his own thoughts.

* * *

“Are you okay?”

Spock stiffens when he becomes aware of Jim’s presence behind him in the sensation of fingers tracing their way down Spock’s arm to rest atop his own. “I do not understand the question,” he says, staring intently at the report on his PADD that he intends to send to Starfleet for peer review.

“Oh, shut up.” And suddenly Spock’s sight is no longer full of laboratory procedures but full of _Jim_ staring at him expectantly with his arms crossed. “You’re acting weird lately. Seems like everytime I touch you, you flinch. Also Bones said you didn’t even lift an eyebrow when he called you a--what was it--’green-blooded slippery snake’ today? Which, _rude_ , but it’s Bones, so I don’t...shit, I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Indeed.” And it is what Spock cannot describe as anything but ‘endearing,’ which is a problem in and of itself. Jim steps closer, resting his hands on Spock’s waist and pressing a tender kiss to Spock’s ear. Spock closes his eyes involuntarily, leaning toward the touch, and understands any further attempts to keep his composure would be in vain.

“If something’s bothering you, you can tell me. I know emotions aren’t your thing--but if you’re having them, I promise I won’t tell.” He practically purrs the words (which is an illogical notion, because of the two of them Spock is closer biologically to the _felinae_ subfamily, and...what was Spock getting at, again?) before letting out a low laugh.

“Tell?” Spock manages, and if he had the capacity, he’d probably be quite proud of himself for keeping his voice even. “Jim, to whom would you--”

“Nevermind.” The amused grin does not leave Jim’s face as he backs away into the hall. “I’m sure you know I’m here if you need me. Logical and all, right?”

It isn’t.

“See you on the bridge at 1900 hours, okay?”

Spock watches Jim walk away, a plethora of feelings bubbling at his surface that _should not be_ , and knows that if he is going through with this, he must make the choice soon.

 _I would suggest extensive reflection before making the decision to undergo_ kolinahr...

According to his calculations, Spock has approximately two hours and six minutes until he must report to the bridge. If he effectively enters a meditative state, this should be just enough time to evaluate the decision he is very close to making.

Spock makes his way to his bed, sits, prepares. Closes his eyes, and remembers.

* * *

Spock remembers pain.

 _”Filthy_ viltah! _” They are children, wild, unpredictable. Their emotions still run rampant within them, despite their and Vulcan society’s efforts to quell them._

 _Spock is seven years old. The older children know of his affliction, and they mock him for it. “He is half-human. He will never be like us. His existence defies logic._ Viltah. _”_

_His mother wipes his tears away before Sarek can see them fall._

_Mother..._

Conclusion: Pain is illogical. Pain is unnecessary. It must be eliminated.

* * *

Spock remembers anger.

_He can hear Nyota yelling: “Spock! Spock, stop!”_

_Spock cannot. He rams his fists, over and over, into Khan’s face, watching blood spray in every direction, desiring nothing more than for this foul creature to feel the anguish throbbing below Spock’s very skin. That which Jim must have felt when he died saving the crew..._

_Because they are his friends. Because Spock is...was his friend._

_Khan had taken all that away. For that, it is only logical he must answer for his actions._

_Blood peppers his knuckles. He cries out in hoarse, animalistic noises he does not recognize. He does not stop. Not until Uhura says: “He’s our only chance to save Kirk!”_

_Spock meets her eyes finding truth in them. To save Jim...?_

_The anger does not subside when he renders Khan unconscious with one final blow. It simmers, unrelenting, behind his eyes and in his chest._

Anger is illogical. Anger is unnecessary.

* * *

Spock remembers happiness.

_“Oh, my God. Oh, my God, it’s happening. I need to document this moment. Bones owes Uhura fifty credits, and I am the happiest man alive right now.”_

_Spock furrows his brow in curiosity as Jim stands before him, a towel wrapped around his waist, having just engaged in a ten-point-three minute shower. He is laughing._

_Spock had awoken to find Jim absent, concluding immediately at the sound of running water that he was otherwise occupied. To pass the time Spock had found himself closing his eyes again in an attempt to calculate how long it would take him to write an efficient report on the newly-updated science station software after his shift was over . . . and then Jim’s howling laughter broke his concentration. “To what are you referring, Jim? I cannot fathom what is so amusing--”_

_“I just . . . I got up, went right to the shower ‘cause didn’t want to wake you and I came back and I realized--Spock, have you _seen_ yourself? This is glorious. I need to get my PADD...”_

_Spock is just about to comment on the string of illogical words Jim has managed to throw together in the span of a few moments, but the Captain cuts him off, providing explanation enough to render Spock completely silent:_

_“The Bed-Haired Vulcan,” he says in a sing-song voice not unlike that of the narrator of the many space-wildlife simulations Spock viewed at the Academy, “is an elusive creature, akin to the Terran unicorn. It is advisable to approach him with caution, as his hairstyle is something he considers illogical and therefore a threat to all he holds true. Unless you’re Jim Kirk, dapper Vulcan-attracting extraordinaire. Then you can just kiss him silly.”_

_Spock has just enough time to whip his head to the bedside table, peering over it and finding his reflection to depict his hair sticking up in various directions, contrasting very extremely with his usual Vulcan straight-banged style (which Doctor McCoy took every liberty to refer to as, ‘the bowl-cut from hell’)._ Oh. __

_Jim is on top of him before he has a chance to remedy this atrocity---kissing him all over, from the dip in his neck to the spot behind his ear that makes him shudder. “Jim...” he murmurs, head lolling back despite his most vehement efforts to the contrary, “Jim, I do not...understand...”_

_“Bed-hair?” Jim nibbles lightly on the side of Spock’s jaw, chuckling. “It’s an unfortunate occurrence that affects billions of life-forms every year--”_

_“No, Captain. I refer to your previous statement that you are...to phrase it precisely, ‘the happiest man alive.’ I do not understand the connection of this sentiment to the present state of the arrangement of fibers on my head.”_

_Jim stops, pulling away a little to look Spock in the eyes. “I’m happy because whether you like it or not, you’re a lot more human than you think, and you’re kind of amazing and kind of adorable--which you can’t even deny anymore because_ bed hair _, and I’m captain of a starship with the person I care about most at my side and my best friends as my crew. So, yes. I’m happy.”_

_“But does this truly make you the...’happiest man alive’?”_

_Kirk smiles, kisses Spock on the lips this time, slow and full of emotions that ignite sparks between them. “Yup. Pretty sure it all qualifies.”_

_Spock decides debating over the irrationality of the hyperbole is moot, and watches as Jim nestles down against his chest, tracing indecipherable patterns there with his pointer finger._

_It would be logical for Spock to re-arrange his hair into its appropriate position, but instead he moves his hands to run along the back of Jim’s head, the stretch of his back that he can reach._

_“You’re beautiful.” Jim speaks in a hushed whisper, but Spock hears him quite clearly indeed._

_“We must report to the bridge in twenty-three point six minutes,” is all he knows to say. He does not lift his hands from the warmth of Jim’s skin._

_Neither says anything more, and for those twenty-three point six minutes, Spock matches his breathing with Jim’s and tries to decipher this unexplored emotion . . . has it a name? . . ._

Happiness is illogical. Happiness . . . is . . . unnecessary.

* * *

Spock remembers . . . love.

_Spock is analyzing life forms on Allyar II when it happens._

_“Mister Spock, are there any signs of life on the planet?” The Captain’s voice rings in his ears._

_“None,” he replies, eyes fixed on the scanner, “other than what appears to be a significant amount of plant life.”_

_“Okay. I’m getting a landing party to beam down.” Kirk starts to head toward the turbolift, when, in spite of himself, Spock turns and follows him, piping up up:_

_“Permission to accompany you, Captain? In the event that extensive knowledge is needed about any potential life forms that do not present themselves on the reader. As this has posed a problem for landing parties in the past, I have concluded that there is a statistical likelihood of 62.1% that we may encounter--”_

_Jim nudges Spock’s shoulder, grinning cheekily. “Lookin’ out for me, huh?”_

_Spock says nothing, stares down at his shoes, thinks that Jim may be right, and are these_ feelings _infiltrating his desire to join a landing party? He looks up again when Jim takes hold of his wrist briefly and leans into his ear for a fraction of a second---gestures so subtle that if Spock were human he’d barely register them himself---and whispers, “Thank you,_ ashalik. _”_

_The last word stops Spock in his tracks. Much to his chagrin, it takes him a moment to process what he’s just heard. He finds himself jogging after Kirk into the turbolift, calling, “Jim!”_

_“Yeah?” Kirk whirls around and looks at him, eyebrows wiggling with amusement._

_The turbolift doors slid shut behind them. Spock realizes he’s breathing hard---why? His heart rate is normal and functioning properly . . ._

_“The word you spoke . . . it is Vulcan for---”_

_“For ‘beloved.’ I know. Did I say it right? Oh, man, I’ve been working_ so _fucking hard on that. I even asked Uhura about pronunciation; is that weird? I think it was weird for her...I should probably speak to her about that...Anyway, you always talk to me in Vulcan when we’re...y’know...when it’s just us, and I thought maybe you’d like if I learned a few things, so . . .” Jim trails off, looking sheepish, and Spock . . ._

_Spock, for the first time in quite a while, has no logical response._

_For a moment, he does not move. The turbolift takes them down, down, down to the transporter room, and Spock feels as though his very bones have been ignited by something more powerful than logic, more prominent than anything he’s ever experienced._

_“Fascinating,” he mutters of the sensation. Then, he promptly grabs Jim’s face and kisses him hard, for he knows---not through logic, but through the fire within him---that it is what he is meant to do now._

_He lowers his hands to twine his fingers with Jim’s, locking himself and Jim in both human and Vulcan kisses._

_The turbolift stops. Spock pulls away, leaving Jim with an expression that can only be described as utterly dumbfounded._

_Spock turns on his heel and almost---_ almost _smiles._

Conclusion: Love is illogical. Love...

_Reflect upon what you are willing to lose, Mister Spock..._

Love is illogical.

Love is Jim and Amanda and the crew of the _Enterprise_ that had strangely enough come to his aid time and time again because they were _friends_ to him.

Losing love would be losing all this, losing Jim and the memories he carried with him in every touch and word and _feeling_.

Spock opens his eyes. Some things are not meant to be eliminated. Some things, however un-Vulcan . . . are worth keeping in the long run.

He jumps off the bed, and runs to find Jim.

* * *

He nearly collides with the person he’s looking for just outside Deck 3. “Hey!” Kirk says in greeting, holding Spock still by clasping his shoulders and running his hands to affectionately cup Spock’s elbows, “I was just coming to get you---tried to contact you on the comm but I figured you were all meditate-y, am I right? We’ve talked about this, Spock, no meditating before a shift because then either Bones or I have to snap you out of it prematurely which is just _weird_ for all of us---”

“Love is illogical,” Spock interjects, frankly having no time at all for Jim’s rambling at this moment.

Jim lets out a sputter of a surprised laugh. “Uh, yeah. Safe to say even Bones would agree with you on that one. But what--”

“ _Taluhk nash veh k'dular,_ Jim.” The words tumble from Spock’s mouth as if they’ve meant to do so for years now (and maybe they have). “I cherish you.” _I love you._ Words usually spoken only between minds of years-bonded Vulcans...yet somehow Spock cannot think of anything more fitting to say.

There is a long beat of silence. Ensigns and officers walk past them in the corridor, occasionally throwing perplexed looks in their direction, but neither seems to notice. Jim closes the small space between them and says, “You...you’ve never said that to me before.”

Immediately, Spock pulls back a little. “Have I presented you with unwanted attention?”

“No! No . . . it’s . . . you’re . . .” Jim sighs, appearing agitated for a moment, evidently trying to formulate the proper words. “It’s . . . nice. Hearing you say it.” He presses a light kiss to Spock’s temple, and if one of the female ensigns nearby lets out a combination of a sigh and a giggle, both Jim and Spock make it a silently mutual decision not to acknowledge it. “Can I ask what brought this on, though? Out of curiosity.”

“In attempting to ascertain whether or not I should endeavor to relinquish my emotions, it appears I have...” Spock’s brow knits together in serious thought. “...caused them to intensify.”

Jim shakes his head in a manner that Spock recognizes to indicate confusion, which means Spock has quite a bit of explaining to do later on. “Is that good or bad?” he asks, and Spock detects hesitation in his voice which he finds he wants to expel.

He attempts to do so by lightly cupping the side of Jim’s face in his hand. “I do not know, _ashayam._ ”

Jim just grins. “I guess we’ll find out then, huh? C’mon, we’re running late for our shift. Scotty’s gonna start making jokes about bumping uglies again . . .”

It is typical of James Kirk, Spock knows, to take this new development in their relationship in stride. Spock, on the other hand, recognizes fully that there is no going back for him, now.

He has not chosen _kolinahr._ Rather, he has chosen to realize, wholly, his human half in balance with the Vulcan culture on which he was raised, and come to terms with them both.

Neither, he understands now, is something he is willing to lose.

But oddly (and illogically) enough, Spock figures as long as he has the _Enterprise_ , and the crew, and Jim---the man he is tugging along to the flight deck by his first two fingers in a shy, subtle, quiet kiss---he will never have to.

**Author's Note:**

> VULCAN TERMS:  
>  **kolinahr** : the process by which a Vulcan purges himself of all emotion, can take anywhere from two to six years to complete by achieving the highest, most 'logical' mental state.  
>  **ta'al** : the Vulcan salute  
>  **viltah** : a derogatory term for a mixed-race Vulcan.  
>  **ashalik, ashayam** : beloved/darling. Pretty sure this was never said in any canon Trek show or film, may have originated from a canon-based novel or in fanon.  
>  **Taluhk nash veh k'dular** : "I cherish you"; the Vulcan equivalent of "I love you."


End file.
